


American Studies

by BeatrixBlack



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:12:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6080688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeatrixBlack/pseuds/BeatrixBlack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How ‘bout lunch today?” Spot asked. “Oh,” Racetrack said sheepishly, “Right, you asked me out. Uh here’s the thing Spot, I’m not gay.” Spot’s eyebrows furrowed as something deep inside of him grew excited at the challenge, “What?” “Yeah,” he replied with a laugh. “You’re actually not the only guy to assume I am. It happens kind of often now that I think about it.” A quizzical look appearing on Racetrack’s face. No kidding, Spot thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time I kissed a boy my whole body lit up. I was 14 and I was at some disgusting dope party in a warehouse on the south side of Brooklyn. 

He was 22, high, and looking for a good fuck. And the only bait being some scrawny blonde in the corner, completely sober, and staring back at any hot guy who turns his way with hungry eyes. The only bait being a kid who’s way too fucking easy for his own good. 

High-guy was walking by on his way to the bathroom when he saw me. He looked me up and down, approached me, and leaned into my ear and whispered something like ‘Let’s get a room so I can roughly fuck you’. 

Foreplay was getting a tongue shoved down my throat and having calloused hands dragged harshly around my body. He very clearly wasn’t interested in learning my favorite pasta or what Pennsylvanian town my mother was born in and I should have felt violated. 

But I had never felt more turned on in my life.

I had, unfortunately, experimented with girl’s prior because I was horny and that’s what I thought I was supposed to do. Though every time I had been with a girl was like a light sprinkle of rain compared to the fucking hurricane of pleasure it was being with a guy. 

I’ll admit the butt fucking was less than ideal and more than extremely painful but I was still into it. And after that night was over I spent more time than I’d like to admit trying to find it again. 

Over the years I found it over and over again on the streets and at random parties. It was easy if drugs where involved, even easier with alcohol. All it took was the right touch and the right look and I’d have some slut following me to a rat infested corner. I bottomed only the first few times and after that I learned enough to afford to be picky. 

Finding it in school was a little harder but not an impossible feat. A lot of guys were hesitant to be with me because of parents, society, finishing too fast, you know, the works. 

I’ll admit, I even used grinder a few times. But those were only in desperate measures. For me, it was the chase that the real excitement stemmed from. 

My absolute favorite was when I was with a virgin or some straight guy experimenting. They don’t know what they’re doing and I can make them feel like they’ve never felt before.

Emotion is a word I don’t like to even think about let alone experience with one of my conquests. Emotion sucks the fun right out of it. And anyway, I don’t regularly see guys enough times to get to know them. And if anything does start… developing then I get the fuck out of there. 

Yep, the chase is the best. Sitting in math class staring at the back of the head of the boy in front of me. Him turning and seeing me look, so I give a wink and he blushes and turns the other way. The best.


	2. Chapter 2

Ten minutes. It has been ten minutes since class was supposed to begin. Policy says that students can leave if the professor does not show up within fifteen minutes of class starting. Spot willed the clock to move faster. Just five, more, minutes. 

The sound of the door opening and many groans coming from students signified the entrance of a very small, no way under the age of 99, professor, hobbling into the classroom carrying a satchel filled with syllabi. 

Spot grumbled under his breath and throwing in some nasty curses for good measure, causing a couple of the nearby students to look his way. Obviously the professor would show up, it was the first day of classes. The old goblin began stalking up and down the rows, passing out the outline for his American Studies class which was already shaping up to be less than lively. 

This process took much longer than necessary and what seemed like weeks later Dumbledore was calling attendance. This gave Spot the opportunity to really look at his fellow classmates of his first real college class. 

Spot had moved in a week prior and his roommate was some frat-boy-dick-head who would be rushing hopefully sooner rather than later. Other than him Spot hadn’t met many other students, and certainly no friends. 

This could be due to Spot spending most of his time off campus at the local target, mum and pop didn’t think to get him anything for dorm life. Or his lack of friends could be due to Spot constantly having a scowl on his face and his eyes telling every passerby ‘I will kill you’. 

Most of the American Studies students were uninteresting. There was one girl in the corner who had a purple laptop, a purple keyboard, purple shoes, a purple sweater, and purple beats. Spot had slight second-hand-embarrassment. 

Spot’s name was called and he tried not to visibly tense at the sound of it.

And then he saw a boy. 

His name was Anthony and he was obviously Italian, despite a non-Italian last name. His hair was dark and curly and his eyes were a shade of deep brown. His shoulders were worked and his body was short. And Spot was interested. 

Anthony wasn’t, interested that is on what Gandalf was saying. Not even after Anthony’s name was called repeatedly and a girl sitting next to him, who seemed to know him, pointed him out to the teacher, claiming that he was present, just not paying attention. Anthony also didn’t seem interested when an old, cracked hand snapped in front of his face in order to get his attention away from his phone. And Spot was interested. 

Anthony seemed to be very fixated on his phone. All during attendance he was dead-faced with eyes glued to his screen. Spot didn’t notice him until his name was called by Grandpa Jim Bob but it was obvious by Anthony not noticing the first, second, third, or forth time Old Man Time was calling his name and looking directly at him. 

“Mr. Higgins!” Old Man and the Sea attempted one last time to grab Anthony’s attention with a pound on his desk. 

Anthony’s head snapped up. His eyes were wide and confused. 

“I’m sorry, you were talking to me?” He said, from what Spot could tell fairly genuinely. 

“Yes, I do not allow phones in this class. And I will be soon going over that in the syllabi…” Saint Nick used that as his segway into going over the rules and schedule of his class. Spot didn’t pay attention though; he was too focused on Anthony. 

Anthony seemed to take Grey Bread pretty seriously, as he had put his phone away and now was staring in the general direction of Rumpleforeskin (running out of elderly insults so I’m moving on to general insults) and his slow, boring speech. Though his hands were twitching while resting on his desk and his head kept jerking to look at the door, as if to check it was still there. Smoker, Spot concluded. Either that or he has serious anxiety. Or both and he medicates himself with the ciggys. 

After what seemed like living and entire life, spanning from birth to death, in that classroom Spot and his fellow students were released. Spot did not have class for a few hours so he thought he might follow Anthony Higgins around for a little bit. Out of pure curiosity, that and Spot wanted to possibly enter him in the future. 

Anthony led them down a couple hallways until they exited the academic building from one of the side entrances. After a few moments Anthony pulled a cigarette out of his pocket it and light it, proving Spot’s suspicions correct. 

In order to not seem like Spot was stalking him he was forced to walk past Anthony and in the opposite direction but as he was passing him Anthony said;

“Hey you sure you don’t want to stick around and see where I’m going next?” Spot stopped in his place and quickly spun around to face Anthony. 

“Well, Anthony, I honestly didn’t think you would notice me with smokes on the mind.” Spot said confidently. 

“Well Sean, if you knew where I was going and what I was going to do why did you follow me?” Anthony contorted turning off the wall to face Spot, only a few feet away. 

“So I could watch that sweet ass of yours for a little longer.” Spot said with a wink. Anthony choked on his most recent drag at Spot’s forward comment. After coughing for a couple seconds he replied in a scratched voice; 

“Jesus, you don’t waste any time do you?” he said looking up from the crook of his arm. 

Spot grinned; “Nope. And you don’t have to call me Jesus, Spot is fine.”

“Spot?” Anthony asked, “What kind of name is that?”

“Stick around long enough and you’ll find out.” Spot said with another wink. 

“You keep twitching like that and your eye’s going to fall out.” Anthony said, “My name is Racetrack.” He said sticking out his hand for a shake. 

As Spot reached out to return the gesture and questioned; “What kind of name is Racetrack?”

“It’s a nickname.” Racetrack replied.

“And how does one earn a nickname like that?” Spot said, leaning on the wall next to Racetrack. 

Racetrack’s mouth stretched in a goofy grin. Cute, Spot thought. “By spending every waking hour at the racetrack since I was a kid,” Racetrack said. 

“Aw you like the horses?” Spot teased. 

“No, but I like to bet.” A smoker and a gambler? Spot thought, score. 

“Ah, very touching. Now I would love to stand out here and talk about your hindering habits but I’m starving. You want to get something from the café?” Spot said, referring to their school’s freshman dining hall. 

A small smile grew on Racetrack’s face. “Can’t today, I got to get to work soon.” 

“Alright, some other time then,” Spot said. 

“Yeah sure,” and with that he turned and walked the other way. Spot watched him go for a few seconds. Maybe he was going to like his American Studies class.


	3. Chapter 3

Spot didn’t see the smoking Italian (meant that in both ways you could take it) until their next class on Thursday. 

Racetrack was already sitting in the classroom when Spot showed up to their 10am. This time Spot sat right behind Racetrack and instantly blew on the back of his neck, causing Race to jump a little and turn around, tearing his eyes from his phone. 

“Why are you always on your phone?” Spot said, still leaned in. 

“Oh, Spot, it’s you. Uh, I don’t know was I on my phone?” Racetrack said looking down at his hand carrying his phone. 

“Um yeah, and you were all last class,” Spot replied. 

“Hm. I don’t know, I have a class right before this so I can’t get out between them.” Racetrack said, glancing to the door. 

“Well anyway, how ‘bout lunch today Racey?” Spot asked. 

“Oh,” Racetrack said sheepishly, “Right, you asked me out. Uh here’s the thing Spot, I’m not gay.”

Spot’s eyebrows furrowed as something deep inside of him grew excited at the challenge, “What?”

“Yeah,” he replied with a laugh. “You’re actually not the only guy to assume I am. It happens kind of often now that I think about it.” A quizzical look appearing on Racetrack’s face.

No kidding, Spot thought, then said, “Well that doesn’t mean you can’t have lunch with me? Unless you’re… homophobic.” 

Racetrack’s eyes widened. Easy. “No! It’s not that I just, didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Of what? Having a new friend in college? I don’t know if any of the many gay guys who’ve asked you out have mentioned but not all gay guys like every man they see,” Spot said. 

Racetrack was still panicking, “Right of course, I’m sorry Spot, of course we can have lunch together.”

“Cool,” Spot said, finally leaning back. 

The living corpse floated in on his death cloud then and Racetrack turned the other way to pay attention to class. Spot was excited to get this closeted boy to squirm over the next couple of days. 

 

As soon as George Washington wrapped up class Spot was the first student out of his seat and heading to the door. Not missing the opportunity to brush pass Racetrack’s arm on his way past his desk. 

Spot waited outside the classroom for Racetrack to catch up with him. As soon as Racetrack appeared in the door, Spot’s heart started to pick up its pace. Guess it’s been a little while, Spot thought, dismissing the feeling. Racetrack was a little shorter than Spot, and Spot wasn’t a tall guy so that was saying something. But Spot digged it. Racetrack could also fit into that category of guys all New Yorkers are familiar with, the short Italian who loves baseball and his mama and spaghetti.

They stopped outside for Race’s smoke break. 

“So, you speak Italian?” Spot asked. 

“Sì,” Racetrack replied with that same goofy grin, throwing away his used cigarette and they started walking back in the general direction of the café. 

Spot hid his smile at Racetrack’s answer over is left shoulder, “Thought so, you basically have alfredo sauce dripping out of your pours.”

“Gross,” Race said, wrinkling his nose at the visual, “Well I can tell you’re from Brooklyn.” 

“Oh, how could you guess,” Spot said with heavy sarcasm.

“I can just smell it on you,” Race said leaning in and pretending to smell Spot. Spot’s heart had a hard time slowing down with Race being so close to him.

“Are you sure that’s just not the smell of sex and attractiveness?” 

“Um, I’m pretty sure,” Racetrack retorted. 

Once they made it down to the café the boys got their meals separately, Racetrack making his way to the American food station and getting a burger and fries, Spot getting sushi from the Asian food station. They met up after paying for their food in one of the booths near Starbucks, the window next to them out looking the small court yard of their school’s downtown Manhattan campus. 

As soon as they sat Race made no time in digging into his food. Spot, after pouring his soy sauce and mixing in some wasabi, also dug in, not wasting any of his time with chopsticks. 

“You don’t use chopsticks?” Racetrack said with a mouth full of fries. 

“You’re not in any position to judge me on my manners.”

They were sitting across from each other, something Spot wouldn’t normally do but today he didn’t want to do anything to scare the Italian beauty. Spot couldn’t help noticing Race’s eye lashes has he chowed down. Looks like a fucking girl, Spot thought. 

“So,” Spot said, time to get the ball rolling, “How’s your first few days at college been?”

Racetrack looked up from his food, “Fine, my roommate is cool and I’ve been hanging with him and his friends.”

“Any of them gays who have found an interest in you?”

The goofy grin presented itself again, “Maybe a couple.” 

“Oh so you hangout with a bunch of queers?”

“Well we go to school in New York. A bunch of the guys here are probably BFA majors or tried to be and now are psych majors.”

“Hey, not all fags are into singing and dancing in tights,” Spot glared from behind his last sushi roll. 

Race looked at Spot with complexity, “Doesn’t that word bother you?”

“What word?” Spot teased, with an arched eyebrow.

“You know, the one you just called yourself?” Race looked to the side nervously. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Race looked down, “Fag,” he whispered. 

“Doesn’t bother me, I know what I am.”

“Right,” Race said. 

“I mean,” Spot continued, looking at his water bottle and purposely not at Race, “if I didn’t know what I was then I might feel uncomfortable too…” Spot left his statement open. Racetrack looked uncomfortable which made Spot’s insides do flips and tricks. “But you know what you are, so it doesn’t matter.” Spot said finally looking Race in the eyes. 

After lunch Spot couldn’t help watching Race’s ass more intently. Like Jesus fuck, Racetrack was really good looking. Like really good looking. His hair looked so thick and touchable and Spot just wanted to tug on it to make Race’s head throw back… 

“You want to come up to my room?” Spot said looking Racetrack dead in the eye, voice slightly horse. 

Race blinked once, slowly and then looked away, “Sure.” He swallowed thickly before nervously looking Spot in the eye again, noticing the change in mood. 

The ride up the elevator to Spot’s room was silent and all Spot could think about was Race’s fucking biceps and how he could see them underneath Race’s short-sleeved shirt. 

Spot’s room was not much to look at; blank light blue walls and the matching light brown furniture as his roommate’s, who wasn’t currently home. Racetrack walked in first, with Spot following closely behind, closing the door behind them. 

“So,” Racetrack started to say turning around, before Spot stepped closer to him and his words got caught in his throat. 

Spot’s body was on fucking fire. He could feel Race, his presence, his nerves, and his curiosity. Spot could tell when a guy was interested in him. Fuck, that’s what Spot was best at. And he new Racetrack was into him. 

He didn’t want Racetrack to freak out. He didn’t want to push him too far, but for some reason Spot was having a hard time controlling himself. 

Race glanced down to Spot’s lips before looking him in the eyes. 

Spot had to move. He reached up and moved a piece of Racetrack’s hair from his forehead back to the rest of his hair. His hand stayed in his hair and knotted itself there. Race’s eyes glazed over and unfocused at the sensation. Spot nearly lost it. 

“What are you doing?” Racetrack said blinking slowly again, then licked his bottom lip and brushed his teeth over it. 

Spot’s hand tightened and pulled Race into a satisfying, hard kiss. His lips held still for only a moment and then started moving against Race’s in a passionate but not fast pace. Spot new what he was doing, and he was going to give Race the kiss of his life. 

His hands moved down to the sides of Race’s face as he pulled him in to deepen the kiss. Race released a groan from the back of his throat. Spot moved his lips faster and deeper, bending his head to allow himself more access. He backed Race up so he was standing against his bed, lofted so it hit is lower back. Race’s hands flew to Spots sides when he felt unbalanced.

His hands tightened almost desperately and then pushed Spot back suddenly, and with brut force. 

“Woah,” Race said. His eyes were wide and moving from Spot to around the room and then back to Spot, as if he was looking for some kind of answer. “What the,” he said in a small voice, “what was…” 

“Race,” Spot’s voice filled with desire. He cleared his throat, “Race I’m sorry… if that’s not what you wanted.” He stepped closer with his hands up in surrender. As if to say I won’t touch you again. 

Racetrack’s mouth was open in astonish but when Spot spoke he closed up again. Composed, “Um, I think I did want it. But I’m not gay. You just… you’re just… you seduced me.”

“I seduced you? How could I have done that if you’re not gay?” Spot said. 

“By-by talking in that voice and looking at me like that…” 

“… Like what?” Spot took a half a step closer to Race. 

“Like that! Like you’re fucking me with your eyes, Jesus Spot! Stop!” Racetrack pushed past him to star at the wall on his roommate’s side, “I’m not gay. Okay? I’m not. But fuck,” he looked at Spot, “that felt good.” 

“Okay, Racetrack,” Spot said stepping closer to Racetrack again. “You may not be gay, that’s fine. But that doesn’t mean you can’t kiss me.” Spot arched a brow in what he hoped was an attractive but innocent way. 

Race was calming down, “Yeah… yeah I guess you’re right.” He was looking now just at Spot’s feet. 

Spot took another step forward, closing the gap between them. 

“But I got to go now!” Race said. Hands flying up and back hitting the door from stepping back too many times, “… bye.” He spun around and quickly left the room, closing the door behind him. 

Spot took a longer shower than usual that night.


	4. Chapter 4

Racetrack was standing in the hallway, outside the classroom the next time Spot saw him. Mummy Man hadn’t shown up yet and their entire American Studies class was waiting for him to arrive and unlock the classroom door. 

Race was holding a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. He was completely fixated, scrolling through twitter or something. 

Spot approached him and leaned against the wall directly to the left of Race. 

“You know if you weren’t trying to get me to notice you, you shouldn’t have worn such a tight shirt,” Spot said leaning into Racetrack’s ear. 

Race responded with a jump, dropping his coffee and it spilling all over the floor. The kids surrounding them laughed or stepped back to avoid the mess. 

“Shit. Sorry,” Race said looking around at the students. He bent to pick up the cup and then walked over to the nearby trashcan at the end of the hall to throw it away. Spot followed him. 

“What’s going on Race? A little jumpy?” Spot said with his hands in his pockets. 

“Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to do but it’s not going to work okay?” Race said looking over Spot’s shoulder to see if anyone was listening to them. 

“It’s not?” Spot asked. 

“No. Just, ugh I’m not gay? What don’t you get about that?” 

“Okay,” Spot paused. “I’ll lay off. It just seemed like you liked that kiss we had.” 

“Maybe I did,” Race said, unconsciously licking his bottom lip. “But I’m still not gay. And I don’t want to kiss you again.” 

“I hear you,” Spot said. “Loud and clear.” 

Race relaxed a little, “Thank you.” 

“But I can’t help it if all I can think about is my wet, hot lips kissing you, hard. And my hands running down your back to squeeze your ass. Then moving my lips down your neck and first kissing gently and then sliding my hot tongue against your skin, making you moan my name,” Spot said, loosing his breath a little at the end. 

Racetrack stood frozen looking at Spot. His cheeks were pink and after a few seconds he gulped audibly. 

Spot noticed kids started to file into the classroom, “Oh looks like class has begun.” And without another word he turned and left Race with a thousand thoughts a minute and a semi. 

 

Racetrack ran out of the classroom as soon as it was over, not giving Spot a chance to talk to him or engage in him at all. 

Spot wondered if maybe he had pushed Race too far but quickly batted that thought away and walked down to the café. 

 

A few weeks went by. Spot saw Racetrack in class but Race very obviously didn’t want to talk to him. So Spot left him alone. He eventually found a group of friends. There was a walking-mouth in his computing class that just chatted Spot up every chance he got until eventually they found something they had in common, Galaxy Quest, and then they hit it off pretty well after that. David introduced Spot to the rest of his friends and since then Spot’s had a pretty regular friend group.

This weekend they were going out to some Mexican place called Dahlia’s that apparently didn’t card. Skittery heard about it from his roommate and so the five of them; Jack, David, Spot, Skitttery, and Itey decided to give it a shot. 

The place was pumping. It seemed more like a club with strobes going off and spilling out the windows, music blasting, and a line of awaiting hopefuls stretching from the doorway to halfway down the block. From the looks of the people waiting to get in Spot had to assume they weren’t checking ID’s tonight. 

Skittery’s friend was already inside so luckily they didn’t have to wait in the pouring rain like the rest of the clubbers. Before he knew it Spot was shoulder to shoulder with dozens of other New York college students. From the college gear Spot could see representatives from Pace, NYU, FIT, New York Law, Columbia and even Marymount. 

Spot and the boys took four rounds of tequila, not his choice but Itey’s. After that Spot was feeling quite warmed up to their situation. 

They were all watching and laughing at Jack attempted to dance when Spot felt someone drunkenly fall onto his left side. Spot on instinct caught said person before they could topple onto the floor. 

“Spot,” Race said from Spot’s arms. He grabbed either of Spot’s shoulders to drag himself into a standing position. Spot could smell the alcohol on him a mile away. Racetrack had definitely had his fair share of drinks tonight. 

“Race,” Spot breathed. He was not expecting their next conversation to be face-to-face with Race’s hands on either of his shoulders, forcing them to look each other in the eye only inches apart. 

Race’s goofy grin appeared and he pulled Spot in for a hug. “How you doing buddy?” Race said over Spot’s shoulder while hugging him. 

“Um, I’m doing fine. How are you?” Spot said, hands slowly finding Race’s back and giving him a few awkward pats. 

“I’m good, I’m good,” Race said sliding his body across Spot’s to stand next to him instead of directly in front of him. Spot tried not to think about Racetrack’s body up against his. “I haven’t seen you in class lately?” 

“Well I’ve been in class,” Spot has always been one to hold his alcohol well but he was still feeling a little more emotional then he normally would be. There was a reason he never drank or smoked when he was trying to score a hottie. “You just haven’t been paying attention.” 

“Oh no, I mean I’ve definitely noticed you. I-I just mean youse haven’t said anything to me in a little while,” Race slurred. His right arm hooked itself around Spot’s shoulders to steady himself. Itey, who was standing next to Spot, and was pushed away when Race forced himself between them, gave Spot a quirked eyebrow and then two thumbs up. He walked away to give them some space. 

“You’ve noticed me?” Spot said. He prayed to God he didn’t sound hopeful. 

“Fuck yeah. I look for you everywhere around campus,” He stopped swaying for a moment and furrowed his eyebrows. “I th-think about you all the time…” 

Spot couldn’t deny his heart started picking up at the idea of Race thinking about him. Hopefully in the shower or late at night in his bed…

“Well, what have you been thinking about?” 

“That fucking kiss! Good God, you’re hot man. I don’t know if you often make out with straight guys but th-that would be good because you’re so good. Well I guess not you- you’re so good your… mouth is so good? But anyway yeah, I keep thinking about it and I’d like to do it again because sometimes you are just feeling in the mood for a kiss and that’s what I’ve been feeling and I’ve been feeling that way—“ 

“Wait what?” In the midst of Racetrack’s very fast and confusing speech, but all around flattering, Spot realized what he said. “You want to make out?” 

Race’s eyes seemed to be very far away but he was pulled back to the current conversation by Spot’s question, “Oh ho ho big-boy. Of course I do.” 

“It seemed like you were avoiding me.”

“Oh right. Well I was big-boy because you know… you having a penis thing? I feel kind of weird getting hard because of a man with a dick giving me the oodles and ca-noodles.”

Spot was only slightly disturbed by the weird words and nicknames coming out of Race’s mouth but that feeling was quickly drowned with chest-swelling emotions provoked by Race talking about Spot and their kiss. Forcing his face back to neutral he replied; “Well… maybe it was a one time thing? Maybe if I kiss you again, you won’t feel the same. Because you’re you know… straight.” 

Race’s whole face light up, “Right! Right right right! That’s definitely it!” He grabbed Spot’s hand and started pulling him through the thick crowd of the bar. 

“Woah, where are we going?” Spot asked. Or yelled rather, his voice was more muffled because they were in the thick of the crowd. 

“To find a bra-broom closet or something!” Racetrack just about screamed. 

Spot was shoved into a broom closet about the size of a twin bed. The opposite wall of the door was floor to ceiling stacked with cleaning supplies. There was about enough room for both the boys to stand upright. 

As soon as the door closed Race started kissing Spot. He grabbed the back of Spot’s head roughly and slammed their faces towards each other. Racetrack’s tongue was wet and sloppy but Spot responded with virgin-like enthusiasm. Spot’s hands instantly grasped Race’s shoulders desperately. Holding on for dear life. Race was giving Spot more enthusiasm than he had when they were in his dorm room and it was fucking hot. 

Spot could hear ‘The Hills’ by The Weekend playing from outside the closet and all the stimulation was just too much. He spun Race around so his back was slammed against the door and Spot started attacking Racetrack’s neck, hands still gripping his shoulders. Racetrack threw his head back in pleasure and moaned Spot’s name. Spot paused for a second at Race’s neck, gulping in ragged breaths. 

Taking a second to think about his present situation, Spot coudln’t remember being this turned on by someone coming on to him. Men have come onto him plenty, hell, girls have come onto him plenty as well. And Spot likes to approach it like he does all situations, with a cool head. But right now all Spot could think was; sex, sex, sex with Racetrack, Racetrack sex. 

Spot continued the assault on Racetrack’s neck, earning Spot’s name groaned in a low note. Spot so desperately wanted to further things but when he started kissing Race’s adam’s apple to get to the other side of Race’s neck, Racetrack’s knee’s buckled and if Spot wasn’t holding him up by his shoulders he would have fallen to the ground. 

“Woah,” Race said, sounding dazed. “You really know how to work a dude, Spotty-boy.” 

And with that, Spot realized the reality of his situation. Racetrack was drunk. Not like ‘oh I had a glass of wine and suddenly I’m gay’. He was multiple shots and possibly a couple of beers; ‘I won’t remember this tomorrow and I’m horny drunk.’ Was Spot taking advantage of him? 

“Why are you stopiiiing?” Racetrack whined. 

“Uh listen buddy,” Spot said trying to look Race in the eye and while also dogging Racetrack’s mouth as he leaned in for more kisses. “You’re kinda wasted and I’m going to take you back to your friends so you can get home safe.” 

Spot hoped he didn’t sound demeaning, he was just worried about Race and worried he had done things with Race he normally wouldn’t have wanted Spot to do. 

“My friends?” Racetrack said, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows. “I think they left a while ago.”

“You’re friends left without you?” Spot said. What the fuck was wrong with his friends? Who would leave their trashed friend at a bar full of possible sex offenders? Spot wondered if he was a possible sex offender. 

“Well no,” Racetrack said, a giggle bubbling in his chest. “Ha, no they’re still here but I just want to go home with you.” Race reached for Spot’s sides, succeeding in giving Spot another hug. 

The last time Spot was hugged so much in one night was his grandma’s funeral, “Well ha ha very funny.” Spot pulled back from the hug and looked into Racetrack’s eyes and saw puppy like innocence. Race could stay one night in his room right? Dick-head roommate wasn’t home and Race could sleep in his bed. No sex so it’s okay? “Okay, you can stay the night in my room,” Racetrack’s face light up and he began to cheer, “But! No more kissing for tonight.”

Race’s face instantly feel, “What? Why!” 

“Because I’m worried you won’t want me to in the morning,” Spot would never be this honest with a person he thought would remember their conversation in the morning. 

“Oh tru-uh-st me big-boy. I’ve been thinking about kissing you for a while. I de-fine-ah-t-lee want it.” 

Spot let his smile slip onto his face, “Well take me to your friends so I can let them know I’m taking you home with me.” 

After Race and Spot tried and failed a few times to get out of the tiny closet they eventually made their way through the crowd again and into the opposite corner of the club Spot had been previous. Racetrack led them to a curly haired boy with caramel skin and a huge smile on his face and a blonde wearing an eye patch. 

Race slug his arm over Spot’s shoulder, “Boys! I’m going home with this hunk of meat.” 

The two boys looked up from their conversation at Race’s flamboyant statement. 

“Who’s this Race?” The curly haired boy said with a worried expression. Eye-patch boy was smiling into his glass and silent. Spot thought, they don’t seem too surprised at the gender of ‘this hunk of meat’. 

“This-here is Spot! And he promised no more kissy’s tonight. So you don’t have to worry, dads.” 

“Oh really?” Patchy the pirate said with a raised eyebrow, looking at Spot. 

“Yeah,” Spot said with a straight face. “My roommates not home and he can stay in his bed.” 

“Isn’t he sweet!?” 

“Are you sure Race?” Was said by sandlot at the same time, “Well you better not touch him,” was said by Captain no-beard. 

“He will remain pure,” Spot sneered at the same time, “Mushy please! You’re embarrassing me!” was yelled by Racetrack. 

“Besides,” Spot said, looking at Race’s two friends. “He’s not gay.” 

Curly-muscle-milk’s expression was unreadable while Will Turner hid a laugh in his glass. 

After assuring Race’s anal friends for a few more minutes Spot was off to babysit a very drunk Race on the subway back downtown. He even had to swipe for Race, seeing that Race didn’t have any money left on his metro card. 

Spot had to straighten Race up before walking him through security, instructing him to look down and make no noise. Racetrack did this without any error, thank God. 

Spot had Race change into some of Spot’s pajamas, making sure to look away while he was changing. He gave him a bottle of water, made sure Race drank at least half of it before going to bed, and then said goodnight. 

“Goodnight hot-stuff,” Race said in the darkness. 

“Goodnight Race,” Spot said back, facing the opposite wall and wondering what Racetrack was going to think in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'd love some feedback on my writing! If you have anything nice to say or some criticism I would greatly appreciate it! More to come, I have no idea how long this is going to be yet. 
> 
> Thanks!  
> BB


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry for the long break of not posting anything! Family stuff happened and then mid terms. I hope you guys like this chapter I know it's not super long or super saucey but it's important to get to know Race and get a feel for the changes happening in Spot. I'm not sure how much is left of this story so just enjoy this chapter for now! The comments made me feel great and encouraged me to work a little on this story every day!

Spot woke up the next morning to the sound of a very long, very agonizing groan. Spot tensed. He knew Race wasn’t going to be happy but he hadn’t really done anything wrong, had he? No, for once he did the right thing and didn’t fuck the drunken guy who was all over him. A thought begged for attention in Spot’s mind. A thought questioning why all the sudden Spot would turn down a score like Race.

He turned over from his position facing the wall and saw Racetrack holding a pillow over his head. He hoped Race was just suffering from a hangover and not embarrassment, or worse, regret from the night previous.

The groan sounded again, this time in a higher, agonizing pitch.

Spot asked, “You okay?” At the same time Racetrack said, “Oh. My. God. Spot.”

Both boys sat up to look at each other.

There was silence for a solid 60 seconds.

“You… You closed your eyes while I was changing.” Race said, hands on his chest covered in Spot’s pajamas and looking at Spot with inquisitive eyes.

“… Yeah,” Spot said giving him a tight smile.

“Um just… uh thanks,” Racetrack said.

Another stretch of silence followed.

“Okay well,” Spot said suddenly, getting out of his bed, “This is fun and all but I got places to be.”

“Wait,” Racetrack said, getting out of Spot’s roommate’s bed, “We’re not going to talk about this?”

Oh fuck me no, Spot thought, “Oh… Okay what do you want to talk about.”

“Well I don’t know! Everything? Like I remember all of it, I mean I think I remember all of it… I uh, was like all over you and shit and oh shit and…” Racetrack said trailing off, seeming to remember the night in detail.

Dammit, Spot thought. He was hoping Race wouldn’t remember anything so they wouldn’t have to have any type of awkward conversation, “Hey don’t feel too bad,” Spot started, “I’m pretty irresistible.”

“I know you’re joking and everything but holy Mother Mary Spot. As soon as I saw you I became like a different person. I… like couldn’t control what I was doing.” Racetrack’s face was beat red but he was looking Spot straight in the eye.

Spot was trying to remain composed but Race’s closeness and the intimacy behind his words was shocking to him. Spot had never had this affect anyone before; at least he didn’t think so. Sure he had many guys try and get Spot to go on dates with them but never had anyone been… infatuated with him. Not that Race was.

“… And we’re still saying you’re straight?” Spot said, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes! Or I thought I was at least. No, I mean I know I am straight that’s why this is so confusing and weird.” Race rambled.

“Muscular curly-cube boy and the one-eyed wonder weren’t surprised when you introduced me to them.”

Race’s hand shot to the back of his neck and a sheepish look appeared on his features, “Oh well that’s not their names but… yeah, they always tease me because they-they think I’m gay.”

“Hm.”

“Don’t give me that look!”

“Well I just mean-“

“Don’t say anything!”

“Alright, alright!” Spot said putting his hands up in surrender.

“So...” Race started and then stopped suddenly.

“… What?” Spot asked.

“Nothing… I just… never mind.” Race said, looking at his feet.

“… O-kay,” Spot said. “Well if that’s all, I’m going to ask you to leave-“

“You want to go on a date sometime?” Race said.

Spot couldn’t stop the incredulous face this time. His mouth dropped three stories and his brows furrowed so far they became one, “What? Wait, what? A date?”

“Yes,” Race breathed angrily, looking away from Spot again.

“But you’re not-“

“Nevermind what I’m not! Just- just go on a date with me,” Racetrack said.

“… Okay.”

“Alright. Okay, good. Well I’ll see you later then,” Race said, moving towards the door, then stopped, “I’ll uh, give you these pajamas back later.” And then he was gone from Spot’s dorm.

Spot was still standing in the same spot from getting out of his bed. What the fuck was that? Racetrack claims he’s straight and then asks me out on a date? Spot thought. He guessed he should be happy? To be completely honest, this was the first date Spot had ever gone on. He wasn’t nervous, of course. But he did think maybe Racetrack would go back on everything and instantly turn around to board the straight-boy-wagon once again. Well whatever, Spot concluded, if Race didn’t want to go out with him or even hook up one more time than it was his loss.

Spot couldn’t get his heart to calm down all day.

Wipe, wipe, wipe. Spot attempted to dry his hands off for the ninth time on his pants. He was waiting outside of their dorm for Racetrack to show up. They had agreed to go out to China Town in class earlier that day.

Race approached Spot with his head down and a baseball cap on, like he wanted no one to notice him, “Hey Spot.”

Spot bent underneath the hat to get into Race’s line of sight, “Hi-a Race.”

Racetrack looked up with an annoyed expression, “Hi. Does tonight sound okay for our meeting?”

“Our meeting?” Spot barked with one eyebrow arched up to his hairline.

“Date,” Race hissed between closed teeth.

“Sure. Unless you have other business to attend to.”

“Shut up,” Racetrack said going red.

“No, I just want to be courteous. I know you’re a busy guy,” Spot said with a wink.

“Okay so tonight? Just meet me outside at 8?.”

“Alright, but only if you can manage to squeeze me in.”

So here Spot was at 7:57, waiting for the little Italian. He glanced around again, in case Racetrack was coming. Spot cursed himself for acting this way. He wasn’t _nervous_ but he did feel a little uneasy. What if Race decided their ‘meeting’ was a bad idea after all? To be fair, the guy is still thinking he could be _straight._

Race finally walked up to Spot at 8:08.

He was wearing a white button up and jeans that were very dark blue. He looked… _cute_ Spot thought.

Racetrack’s face was serious, but Spot could tell by the nervous hand at his neck and the constant looking left and right that he was nervous just like Spot was.

“Hey sorry, the elevator took forever,” Race said coming up to Spot.

“It’s alright. You… look good.”

Race’s face turned a beat red, “Thanks,” he mumbled. Spot smirked.

“Shall we go?”

Racetrack tried to keep his annoyed countenance but a small, excited smile bloomed on his face, “Yeah, let’s go.”

The two didn’t hold hands on the way to the restaurant, in fact Spot noticed Race visibly jumped every time their hands accidently bumped into each other. Though Spot found it annoying, he couldn’t help but being a little amused. Race on that date reminded Spot of himself the first few times he was with guys. No there was no asshole rimming but the way Race blushed, the way he snuck glances at Spot when he thought Spot wasn’t looking, the way Race tried to make Spot laugh, it was all very… _nice._

The Chinese place was small. Spot and Race were shoved into a dimly lit corner with just enough room under the table beneath them for their knees to not touch. Just think if they were two regular height guys, they’d be scissoring.

To Spot’s surprise… the date went _normally._

At least he thought the date went normally, he didn’t have much to compare it to. Not unless you count that once he ate a pizza slice with a guy in high school moments before Spot had his cock in his mouth.

“What’s your major?” Racetrack asked after ordering pork dumplings and sweet and sour chicken.

“Undecided,” Spot said. He ordered vegetable lo mein.

“Oh,” Race said. A small silence began after Race’s response to which Spot broke it quickly.

“What’s yours?”

“I’m a journalist major.”

“Cool. What do you want to do?”

“Well I’m thinking,” he dramatically paused and looked Spot in the eye, “… journalism.”

“Okay Bilbo, I meant what do you want to write.”

“Oh, well I’m thinking just like local stuff for a newspaper.”

Spot found that uninteresting, “Why just local stuff?”

“I like the little stories. I think like stories about small donut shops and little league baseball games are actually stories about just people and the community we share. I don’t know, I think it can be kind of beautiful.”

Spout found that response very interesting, “Wow,” he said.

They made it about halfway back to the school when Spot heard Race take a deep breath and then grab Spot’s hand. Spot smiled and looked at Racetrack who was looking ahead and very obviously trying not to look very obvious.

The closer they got to the school the multiple possibilities of how they will depart tormented Spot’s mind. Should they leave after a shared elevator ride? Should Spot walk Race to his door? Should Spot invite Race into _his_ dorm? He normally would definitely chose the last option if it meant maybe a little extra but with Race he wasn’t sure. He decided he didn’t care and to let Race worry about it. No one told Spot’s rapidly beating heart he didn’t care though.

In the end Race did decided. They were riding an elevator up, Race’s floor was lower so his stop was first. He left the elevator only to dramatically jump back in and grab either side of Spot’s face and give him a hard kiss.

They held it.

They held it so long one of Race’s hands had to stop the elevator as it started to close again.

Spot’s hands found their ways to Race’s sides and he was just tilting his head to start moving his lips when Race pulled away.

His lips were glossy and his eyes were dreamy, “That was… see you later,” Race said stepping out of the elevator and then stopping to look at Spot.

Race didn’t move and Spot didn’t move as the elevator closed in between them and Spot was carried to his floor.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Queens a little bonus chapter while I figure my life out.

It was dark. The air on his skin was cool and fresh and the blankets under his back were silky and soft. He was half naked. His chest exposed and his bottom half only covered in his boxers. He usually slept like this.

“Hey I didn’t know you were awake.”

His skin bristled at the sound; goose bumps rising on his neck were the lips of the intruder brushed against as he spoke. He wasn’t alone. Someone obviously was in his bed with him but he didn’t know whom.

“Hello?” A small kiss was placed on his neck in the same spot the whisper was said,  
“You are awake aren’t you? I can practically hear your heart beating from across the room.”

There’s that snarky attitude he loved. Whenever he heard it his mind was flooded with strange emotions he wasn’t used to feeling.

He loved it. He liked the dynamic between the two of them. It wasn’t like being with girls. Though they definitely had their upsides.

“Hey. What are you thinking about? You’re a million miles away,” the voice chimed again. It’s accent unmistakably New England.

The soft lips were on him again.

They kissed from the spot on his neck that made his knees go weak to the area directly under his ear.

The mouth he loved so much. Those plump pink lips that fit so perfectly on that feminine, fair face. A face that didn’t seem to be capable of such snarky and smart-ass constant comments.

He couldn’t help the small whimper that his mouth released.

The lips responded by moving down his jaw and towards his mouth.

The kiss was slow at first. The tongue belonging to the man in bed next to him sliding into to opposite’s mouth like they were born to do this together.

The tongue became more dominant and demanding. A body slid on top of him and the groan responding couldn’t be helped. His hands flew to the intruders back and felt the slim but firm muscles.

He always wondered how such a tough guy could be draped in such a delicate looking frame.

The man on top’s hands slid all around his body. Starting from his shoulders and then moving up to his face. His weight supported by his legs that were now straddling the man on bottom.

The hands moved to his face and ran his thumbs along his jaw, making the jaw fall open in a silent moan. The hands moved down his bare chest, feeling and praising every inch of the no-where-near perfect body. He had never been very confident.

The hands did not stop and moved down to the waistband of the bed-owners boxers. He shivered and sucked in a shaky in breath.

He had been dreaming of this for quite a while. Well, not actual dreaming. Unless you count daydreaming.

The anticipation was deadly but the smooth but strong hands did not disappoint.

They dipped underneath the elastic holding his boxers together and his fingers brushed the sensitive skin just above his straining hard on.

In fact, the boy could not remember ever being this turned on. Not by himself and certainly not with any of the girls. There hadn’t been many. Just a few in high school and none in college yet. The boy on top of him had been taking all of his attention in that department.

The fingers continued to tease the body underneath. Brushing his fingertips at the very base of the aching cock. Air was coming out of the receiving like he was puffing out cigarette smoke for the first time. He couldn’t control himself, his breath was completely lost and all he could do was desperately try and catch up with it. His senses were on hyper drive. The hands on the boy on top of him were shaky but grasping for something desperately.

Grasping for answers. Being anything but straight had never really crossed his mind. Yeah, he gasped in Captain America when Steve Rogers first became the amazing soldier because of the German serum, but everyone else in the theater had too. And yeah he’d peaked at the boys on the basketball team in the locker room but that was because he was impressed by their physical ability. That was the mantra going through his mind at least. That and _don’t get a boner, don’t get a boner, don’t get a boner_.

The hand squeezed a little, earning a high pitched whine, and then started to move. The receiver couldn’t stop his hips from jerking with every pump. He couldn’t stop his head from throwing back and his arms going from his partners back to the sheets next to him, trying to hold onto something desperately. As if he was trying to hold onto something and not fall of.

“Oh fuck. Oh oh oh oh _God_.”

That earned a chuckle from the man with his dick in his hand. The chuckle was coated with roughness and, fuck, _sex_.

Thinking that he was making the other feel turned on only made his awkward hip jerks even more aggressive.

His hips were moving like a virgin and his mind was spinning like a man questioning everything about sexuality. Oh wait.

The first time he saw him he thought he was interesting. He hadn’t been the first guy to approach him but he was the first one he hadn’t immediately turned down. Every time someone asked him out or hit on him he was not interested in the immediate response was no thank you. But he let him thinking he was a possibility for a few days. Maybe because he always was a possibility.

The hand’s movements became more frantic and the boy above him started humping onto _his_ leg in time with his hand’s pumps.

_That_ almost did it for him. Someone as experienced as him? Getting turned on by the boy underneath?

“Oh God Spot. Oh God Spot fuck me, oh God. I can’t-“

“Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up!”

The sensation of a plastic water bottle being thrown at his head woke Racetrack up.

“Wha?” He was drenched in sweat as he sat upright and looked at his clock next to his dorm bed. 5:29 am. Then his extremely hard cock was noticed and his roommate’s voice brought him into reality about what he was dreaming and what he was probably saying in his sleep.

“Race shut the fuck up I’m tired of hearing your gross sex dreams about that guy Spot like oh my God you’ve been moaning and like moving around for the past half an hour and it’s so gross and then you started like saying his name and then you said ‘Spot fuck me’ and it was too much and so gross and also super fucking gay like super super fucking gay like there is literally no way you could be any more gayer than that unless you fucking fucked Dumbledore or something I don’t fucking know-“

“Okay okay!” Racetrack finally yelled, interrupting Blink, “I’m sorry.”

“I mean I get that it’s natural and all and that you’re finally figuring out your sexuality but can we at least try to keep your nasty sex dreams a personal thing instead of a group activity?”

“Well… Yeah, fine, okay. Yeah I know. I’m sorry.”

“Like fuck Race it’s 5 am.”

“Okay Blink.”

“… Like fuck Race.”

“Blink, okay.”

“Okay,” he said laying back down to go to sleep. But then instantly popped up again, “But like no more.”

“Okay!”

“Okay… Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait! It's been too long to justify, so I'll just say this is the most rated M chapter so far. You've been warned queens.

Race and Spot started a semi regular hangout schedule. That’s about as romantic as Spot was willing to call their… _date_ s. Not that Spot was afraid to call them romantic, he wasn’t. Race just didn’t seem to want them to involve any… _physical_ romantics. Race liked the part were they walked around lower Manhattan and discovered new donut places but as soon as Spot would lean in for a goodnight kiss Race would blush and mumble an excuse and quickly get into his dorm and shut the door. And Spot was confused.

He was fairly certain Race was into him, like physically into him. Race looked at his lips every time Spot causally on purpose bit them when he was ‘thinking’. And Racetrack watched his hands when he was writing or using chopsticks or when Spot causally on purpose gripped the phallic shaped lampposts in City Hall Park across the academic building.

But even though Race was sending all the into-you vibes and showed signs of sexual frustration, he wouldn’t let Spot kiss him again.

“It’s not you,” Racetrack said outside his dorm one night after an evening of walking around Rockefeller Plaza and looking at the Christmas window displays, “I just don’t think I’m ready to be… physical with a man.”

Meanwhile Spot was slowly dying inside. He had to jerk off before every date or he wouldn’t be able to sleep the night afterwards, just laying in bed thinking of Race’s forearms.

Spot’s roommate moved out and into a fraternity floor in November and after that Race and Spot starting having movie nights in his room.

This particular night was the second weekly movie night. The first ended in a lot of unresolved sexual tension. Tonight the movie was _Jiro Dreams of Sushi_ , something Racetrack picked because of Spot’s love for the Japanese food. Luckily this documentary was short but even so towards the middle it felt like Spot’s skin was about to burst.

Spot had spent the movie next to Race in the dark, only centimeters away, just clenching and unclenching his hands. He couldn’t stop thinking about their close proximity and Racetrack’s dark jeans that hugged his thighs and ass sinfully.

Old Spot would have pounced the moment the lights went out. He would start with gentle fingers running up and down Race’s legs then move towards his inner area- but not tonight. Spot didn’t want to… _push_ Race. He wanted him to be comfortable and feel safe and ick ick ick. Who _was_ Spot these days? New Spot just sits there and bits his tongue and clenches his fucking asshole while the hottest thing in Manhattan sits untouched.

_And Racetrack wasn’t helping._ Spot could feel Race’s eyes on his cheek every five goddamn minutes when Race would glance at him. He’d be facing the documentary, quickly reading the rapid sub-titles, then his eyes would slowly lower and drift to Spot. He’d rank his fucking brown beauties up Spot’s body before resting on his face and batting his eyelashes.

Spot couldn’t _take_ it.

The third time Race did Spot said deadpan to the screen, “You’re gonna miss the movie.”

Racetrack’s eyes immediately lowered in shame and slowly scanned back to the documentary. Spot could see the red darkening in his cheeks from the screen light casting on his face.

“I’ve been watching the movie,” Racetrack mumbled, head down.

Spot felt _bad_ and it was weird and definitely unfamiliar but he had to somehow release this weird _guilty_ feeling.

“… I mean I don’t mind if you look,” Spot said, eyes still on the screen.

Racetrack slowly looked back up at Spot with so much fucking _emotion_ in his eyes, “I-I wasn’t staring.”

Spot angrily breathed out of his nose, “ _Yes_ , you were staring.”

“Well I was just seeing if you liked the movie-“

“And what did _you_ like?”

“What?” Racetrack’s eyes snapped up to Spot’s for the first time.

“What did you like when you were looking at me?” Spot spoke softly. Racetrack’s breath picked up. “Do you like my eyes? My nose? My cheeks? Do you like my hands?” Racetrack released a _tiny_ gasp but Spot could still hear it. “Oh you do? Do you think about my hands?” Race’s face was tomato red at this point. “You think about my hands wrapped around your _strong_ arms?” Spot couldn’t believe how much of a pussy he sounded like, but it was definitely working on Racetrack, he looked like he was about to drool. “You think about my hands running over your smooth chest, pinching your nipples? Yeah? Do you imagine me wrapping my hands around your thick cock?” Spot said, voice dripping with sex.

At that Racetrack made a sputtering-choking noise, “Oh my _fuck_ Spot,” he said with raspy voice.

“There’s so much more where that came from.”

Racetrack’s hands flew to his hair, “Look I know! I already told you I just don’t think I’m ready-“

“To have physical relations with a guy! I know,” Spot finished, “But if you want it I don’t see why it’s a big deal-“

“Because it’s my whole life that’s why it’s a big deal!” Racetrack exploded, “My whole fucking life all I’ve thought is girls girls girls _girls_. I never-I’ve never thought about-about being with a-with a guy-“

“Okay! It’s okay Race I wasn’t trying to pressure-“

“I mean I fucking want it!” Race said and Spot’s eyes widened.

“… You-“

“Yeah, I fucking want you alright? Jesus, I want you it’s just so weird-“

“What are you afraid of?”

“What?” “Well I mean like what is it about being with a guy that you’re afraid of?” Spot questioned, “Is it like the idea of giving, or receiving or what?”

“I don’t know I guess I haven’t thought about it,” Race said perplexed. He took a moment, to think, and then said, “I honestly think giving. Like somehow that’s more gay. Is that fucked up?”

“Well I guess a little but hey, I could just do stuff for you?” Not unfamiliar territory for Spot quite frankly.

“What? No I could never ask you to do that.” Spot felt his stomach fucking _flutter_. It was an unexpected and almost foreign feeling.

“But you wouldn’t be against doing it?”

“Well I guess not if you really want to but-“

“I do. Trust me I really want to.”

Race seemed embarrassed. His cheeks were extraordinarily rosy and his eyes were full blown, dark with just a bit of brown peeking up from underneath his pupils.

“…Uhh,” Racetrack started awkwardly.

“I really fucking want it,” At this Race’s pretty mouth fell open. His lips were glossy and the pink of them matched his cheeks and _fuck_ Spot wanted it. He almost felt like telling Race he hadn’t gotten any in a while. Not since he met Racetrack actually. But he then remembered he wasn’t a pussy.

“Well you can-“ Race started slowly but Spot was impatient. This is the closest he’d been ever.

“Kiss you again?” He supplied. Racetrack’s brow furrowed. Jesus fuck, Spot thought, “… Too gay?” He said after a few beats of silence.

Race coughed a laugh, “Well probably the gayest because it’s just a little- _romance_?” He spoke the last word almost as if it was painful.

Spot ignored the slight sting he felt in his chest when Racetrack said this. Because he didn’t care. Romantic and Spot were two opposite ends of the spectrum. So instead he placed his right hand on Race’s left thigh.

Instantly his hand felt like it was burning a hole in Racetrack’s jeans. Race breathed out a hard breath but did not say anything to stop Spot. So he let his hand drift up a few inches, towards the center of his leg. This time Racetrack breathed in hard. And Spot felt a flutter in his chest again, and ignored it as usual. Spot let is hand fall a little down, towards Race’s inner thigh and Racetrack started chewing on his lip.

And for some reason this was super hot to Spot. Which was ridiculous. Because he was just touching a dudes _leg_. But he felt his own arousal start to grow in his pants and that motivated him to let his hand fall up to Race’s very upper thigh, just to the side of the tent now clear in Race’s pants. Racetrack’s breathing picked up a lot then, almost as if he was struggling to get each breath in and out. Then Spot mustered his courage, which was usually readily available but for some reason today seemed to be short of stock, and placed his hand on Race’s clothed cock.

Racetrack made a small gasp/moan and it was fuel for Spot’s thunder. He slid his hand up and down slowly and gently, Race unable to conceal his small moans the entire time.

Watching Racetrack’s face was giving Spot feels like he was the one being touched. It seemed like Race was getting felt up for the first time. Or maybe he was just getting felt up by someone he was actually attracted to for the first time. His head feel back against the wall they were leaned up against and his mouth was wide up, while his eyes were screwed shut. He truly was beautiful, Spot thought. That thought would have freaked him out more if he wasn’t so preoccupied with making Race feel good. He never thought one of his hookups were _beautiful_ before.

But Race certainly wasn’t a hookup.

After about sixty seconds Racetrack’s hips starting inching forward with each stroke of Spot’s hand. His moans became a little less controlled as well. Spot cautiously, which was weird, continued the rise of his hand to Race’s zipper.

“Ah…” Racetrack gasped, in what was a clear _I’m uncomfortable_.

“Sorry,” Spot whispered and continued the slow torture on Race’s arousal. The ‘sorry’ felt heavy and foreign on his tongue. Spot still couldn’t believe what Racetrack was doing to him.

The rubbing went on for about five more blissful minutes for both Racetrack and Spot. But not Jiro, who if he could look back through the screen and see what has happening during his documentary would certainly be appalled.

Suddenly Race’s hand flew to Spot’s wrist and squeezed forcefully, stopping Spot’s movements.

“Spot,” he said in a strained voice.

“You already to come for me baby?” Spot said without missing a beat. At this the pressure on Spot’s wrist increased as Race’s head bowed forward.

“Fuck, don’t say stuff like that.”

“Why?” Spot teased, “You embarrassed you’re about to come from me just touching you through your jeans for a few minutes?”

Race’s face raised to meet his, beat red with shame.

Spot felt that growingly familiar feeling of guilt, “Because imagine what I could do with my mouth.”

At this, instead of continuing to keep Spot’s hand from pressing his dick Racetrack quickly pressed Spot’s hand against him _hard_. He raised his hips to meet it while his brow furrowed and he let out a low groan. Racetrack ground himself up against Spot’s hand, hard and jerkingly.

The whole scene made Spot’s small moan escape, though it’s not like Race could hear it over his climax.

After a few moments and Race started to collect himself again he seemed to be ashamed of what happened.

“Oh shit Spot… Spot I just- I just-” He couldn’t find the words.

“It’s alright doll, that was the goal in the first place.”

Despite his panic Spot’s words did seem to calm Race some.

“Yeah… yeah, I guess you’re right. I just didn’t expect to waddle back to my room with crusty pants.”

Spot couldn’t help his laugh. Racetrack was unlike anyone he’d ever met.

“Well next time you can come in my mouth so we don’t have this problem.”

Race’s eyebrows shot up, “Jesus Spot!” Spot was smiling, it was strange and pleasant and he was _happy_. “I guess we missed the movie.”

Spot looked down and noticed the documentary had ended. Oh well, he thought.

“I was watching something much better,” he said.

“Well hopefully next time you aren’t just watching,” Race said confidently before realizing what he just said. But he didn’t take it back. He just sat there watching Spot as a small smile formed on his face.

Spot felt something inside him flip, his stomach, he thought maybe. Or even his heart. What in hell was he getting himself into.


End file.
